The Space Between

In Between

In Between

I was awake. Or, at least what passed for awake in this place. It must be morning because they’d left a breakfast tray on the table next to my bed. I don’t know how long it’s been sitting there but I know if I don’t eat it, they’ll just come in and force it down my throat. Apparently, we are no longer doing the starvation torture. They’d wanted to know what my body would do with a lack of food and water. I guess waste away and nearly die hadn’t been part of their plans because I’d never seen them hook an IV and pump me full of fluids so fast. They’d had to feed me that way for a few days as well, until I was strong enough to eat on my own.

I guess I was still useful to them.

Whatever magical combination of creatures I was still remained a mystery.

I could have told them they wouldn’t be able to figure it out, but they’d never asked. Even I didn’t know what I was. Maybe I was a witch, or a fairy, or an elf. No, I couldn’t be an elf, my ears were round. They’d wondered if I was a shapeshifter and then proceeded to try whatever methods they could to get me to change. 

All I’d eventually ended up with was a broken leg. And hip. And six ribs.

I reached out and picked up the toast on the plate. It was already soggy, but I brought it to my lips and took a bite, sitting it back on the plate while I chewed and swallowed. There was nothing to drink, but I knew that wouldn’t come until I’d eaten all the food. Just another way to control me.

I wish I knew where I was, but I’d long ago stopped trying to talk to them, the doctors and nurses, if that’s what they really were. I wish I knew how long I’d been here. But maybe I didn’t because I’m afraid it’s been a long time. I’ve just about given up any chance of leaving this place. I’ve just about given up entirely and am ready to die. I haven’t even uttered a sound in forever.

Until last night and that one moan.

I placed my fingers on my throat and moaned, feeling the way my neck vibrated with the sound. It startled me a bit, to hear even that much of my own voice after so long. I moaned again, a little louder this time, warming up my vocal cords, because I wanted to be able to say my own name. Because I wanted to feel his hands on me again. Maybe my body couldn’t escape this prison, but at least my mind could.

I forgot about eating the food and thought about last night, about those large, warm hands on me. I’d dressed in the last thing I remembered wearing that wasn’t a hospital gown. What was I doing the night I was taken? I can’t remember. I do remember that I used to love wearing skirts. And dancing. I loved dancing. I was swaying against him last night. I could feel his hard body behind mine. The way my body felt when he slid his hand up my torso…

I realized, in that moment, that I was looking at myself lying on my bed. I looked down and saw that I was wearing the clothes I’d had on last night, but also looking at myself, lying on the bed in a hospital gown. I looked like I was asleep. What was going on? I wasn’t drugged right now.

A loud bang against my door scared me and my eyes shot open with a gasp. “Eat that food before I shove it down your throat,” came a growl.  

I reached out and grabbed the toast again, taking another bite before setting it on the tray. I wish I remembered what toast with jam tasted like. I seem to remember liking jam on toast. Wait, don’t lose your train of thought, girl. You were just standing there looking at yourself, out of your body, and you weren’t drugged up. So, how did it happen? I started to have a conversation with myself.

I was thinking about last night and I popped out of my head. 

You’ve thought about your life before here and it never happened before.

That’s true. So, what’s different about now?

I don’t know, that’s why I’m talking to you about it.

I wanted to feel his hands again.

Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe it’s a want.

But I don’t actually know how I got there in the first place.

What were you thinking about right before the drugs put you out yesterday?

Honestly, I don’t remember. I could have been thinking about a cheeseburger for all I know.

Oh, my god, I want a cheeseburger so bad.

Me too. Wait, that’s not what I was thinking about. I was thinking about feeling some warmth again before I died. 

He definitely had that.

I was thinking about how scary it is in that between space.

Were you scared with him?

Only when I felt myself slipping away.

We need to get back to him. So, here’s what we’re going to do. First, you’re going to eat whatever nasty food they bring you, so we have some strength. Second, we’re going to practice getting out of your body and figuring out a way to get back to him. How’s that sound?

Like heaven.

Alright then, you need to sit up, there you go. I know the food makes you want to barf, but you have to eat it.

I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the bowl of food. It was just tasteless, bland oatmeal. They probably cooked it in a giant pot at the beginning of the week to feed to us. I reached out a shaking hand and picked up the spoon, dipping it in and pulling out some of the oatmeal. It looked like mucus and I could already feel my stomach heaving but I had to get it down and keep it down. I was already weak and there’s no way I was going to survive much longer without nourishment. The body I had last night looked nothing like the body I have now. My body last night was the body I had when I was first brought here, soft but toned. Healthy. In my reality, my body is gaunt and broken. You can almost see my bones through my skin.

I don’t know how long I’ve been staring at this spoonful of “food” but it’s not going to get any easier if I let it get super cold. I shove it in my mouth real fast and swallow without chewing or tasting. My stomach heaves again and I sit there for a minute, breathing deeply, until it settled, and I no longer feel like puking. And that’s how I eat the rest of that food, one slow spoonful at a time, but I get it down, and keep it down. Even the dry toast. I laid back down after eating and must have fallen asleep because when I woke up again, the tray was gone but there was a glass of water and a pill there. I’ve always wondered what the pill was for. I tried to not take it before and when they found out I was severely beaten and then made to take it in front of them, to make sure I swallowed it.

But no one had watched me for a long time.

And I didn’t want to take it.

I sat up and grabbed the pill and glass of water, tipping my head back and acting like I put the pill in my mouth, just in case they were watching, before gulping down the glass of water. But that pill remained in my hand. I had a toilet in my room, nothing more than a sterile prison at this point, and I stood up and slowly made my way to it. I didn’t use it very often; they gave me so little nourishment that my body kept every little bit for itself. But today, I lifted the hospital gown and sat, dropping the pill in at the same time. I prayed some urine would come out, so I’d have a reason to flush. Thankfully, some did. Of course, this wouldn’t work every day, I didn’t usually sit on the toilet every day, so I’d have to figure out a different way to dispose of the pill tomorrow.

This is good, said the voice in my head. You listen to me, and we’ll get us out of here.

I want out of here. Who are you anyway?

I’m you. I’m the small piece of you still holding on. Trust me. Trust you. Listen to yourself, to me.